


Miss the Misery

by DaniJayNel



Series: 100 YumiKuri Stories [53]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Dark-fic, F/F, Songfic, challengefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniJayNel/pseuds/DaniJayNel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ymir missed the bad things, the way Krista hated her. She missed the screaming, the way Krista blamed her. She missed the phone calls when it was her fault. She missed the late nights, but didn't miss Krista at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss the Misery

**Author's Note:**

> This week’s theme is a one-shot based on either “I Miss the Misery” or “Mz Hyde”, both by Halestorm. I decided to use the former. This isn’t much, but it’s the most I could pump out. I enjoyed this twisted little one-shot anyway.

Glass shattered and showered on the wooden floor. A booted foot crunched over it, and then Ymir threw another glass. This time it shattered against the wall, and she yelled in anger.

“Where is she?!”

She clutched at her hair and then slammed her forehead against the kitchen counter. The pain barely rippled through her. She clenched her teeth hard, and then released a soft curse and a sigh.

Without much of a thought she hurried to clean the mess her anger had caused, and then stumbled into the hallway. She approached the front door and collapsed onto the floor in front of it.

When had she come to miss the misery so?

Ymir stared hard at the door, willing it to open and willing her blonde lover to step through. It was dark, so she could just barely make out the wooden patterns on the door. She knew that it wouldn’t open, however. Her ears strained for the sound of car tires that wouldn’t pull up to her driveway.

She missed it, the way Krista’s blue eyes would bore into her. She missed the way her angry stares would wash frustration and shame over her, creeping into her heart like a delicious poison. Since the moment they had met Ymir was ensnarled in the web that was “Krista”. Ymir knew that wasn’t her real name, though she did not know what her real name was. It had never been gifted to her.

Krista’s true self had been given to someone else.

Bitterness filled Ymir’s being like fire and she clenched her fists tightly. She had been a mess since the moment Krista had spent a single night with her. At first it had been perfect, but then something happened and the little blonde changed, and Ymir became a wreck.

Screaming, fighting, arguing—it all became routine. Their nightly activities consisted of yelling at each other rather than watching a show on TV. Ymir had preferred it that way. She would rather have fought through the night than allow that blonde to goddamn fake her emotions. Each time Ymir say Krista’s mask slip into place, she provoked until Krista cracked.

And when she did it was marvellous. She could kick Ymir in the face both metaphorically and physically, and the brunette loved it. When she would call to offer up lame excuses for not being able to visit, Ymir would revel in the misery it brought her.

She was truly a warped human being, but it was her only way of living. She missed the dysfunction and the anger. She missed the way it all hurt. One thing was clear—she didn’t miss Krista.

What the blonde provided her in emotional wreckage was far more valuable.

Maybe Ymir was simply too scared to grab onto Krista as a person, instead of the emotions she provided. They could never really be together, anyway, but Krista had made it happen thanks to her own selfishness. And Ymir needed it.

Krista hadn’t visited in a long time. Ymir was upset and yearning. She desired to see the fire in her tiny blonde’s eyes, feel the sting of her strike, the pound of her fists and the pitch of her angered screams

It was obvious that Krista hated Ymir. The brunette could see it—the blonde hated Ymir for keeping her interested, for making her ditch her real life for something seemingly dirty. She hated that Ymir brought out the ugly in her, and more so that she absolutely loved it. Krista blamed Ymir for everything, and Ymir did not mind one bit.

But she wasn’t fucking coming back. When last had they met in a tornado of lust, breaking furniture and destroying each other in their passion?

The strangest thing happened then—a familiar sound met Ymir’s ears from outside, and the brunette’s heart jumped into her throat. She stood, mouth drying with her anxiety.

Krista had just pulled up in her driveway, and she was walking up to the door. Ymir opened it before she could knock, and glared so fiercely that Krista took a single step back.

“Ymir,” Krista uttered softly. Her blue eyes shimmered in the moonlight.

“What do you want?” Ymir hissed.

“I, um…” Krista sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. She looked like she had just finished an expensive dinner. A thin, tight purple dress wrapped around her petite form. Expensive jewellery hung for her ears and neck, and Ymir narrowed her eyes at the sight of it.

“A night out with your husband?” Ymir asked with venom in her voice.

Krista’s eyes sharpened. “Leave Nanaba out of this. I don’t want to hear about it, I did not come here for that.”

Ymir smirked. “Then what are you here for?”

“To break it off,” Krista answered. Her eyes grew more serious and she took the step she had lost earlier in her fright. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Ymir folded her arms across her chest, apparently unimpressed. In reality her chest began to ache, her heart feeling as if it was expanding far too wide, squeezing way too tightly. “And what makes you think I’ll let you leave?”

Krista stepped forward suddenly and shoved Ymir into the house. The brunette stumbled in surprise and then fell down onto her backside. When she looked up Krista was crouched before her and a small hand clamped down on her mouth.

“I’ll make it hurt,” Krista said acidly,  her face not nearly as radiant as it had been in the moonlight. Now it looked furious, seething.

“So leave me a mess,” Ymir shot back. “I miss how you make my chest ache. Fuck me up like you always do, but don’t run away.”

Krista’s eyes narrowed. “I have no pity for you.”

“And I don’t miss _you_ ,” Ymir snarled. She grinned and then pulled Krista’s face to hers, smashing their mouths together and taking control of her lips.

Krista gasped and heard the sound of her dress rip. It didn’t bother her in the least.

Ymir growled as she kissed Krista with every bit of emotion she felt. Besides the misery and the hatred and the blame, she had missed the rough sex most of all—the tearing of clothes, nails digging into skin, moans of absolute ecstasy.

“You can’t leave me,” Ymir breathed into her mouth. Her next words were tenderer than she had intended. “You need me.”

“Ymir.”

“I’ve tried to forget about you but I can’t take it.” Ymir’s face hardened and she dug her fingers into Krista’s hip. “You know that I’ve had enough.”

Krista flinched from the pain but couldn’t deny how it made a flutter of excitement enter her heart. “Ymir, we can’t…”

“I miss the way that you blame me.”

“Why do you have to always pull me back in?”

Ymir grinned. She knew that she had just won, and a wave of relief washed over her. She lost her hands in Krista’s golden hair and then tugged on it as she kissed her again.

Krista, for a moment, hesitated. She thought about her husband, about how sweet he was, but that she didn’t love him. He didn’t love her, she knew. He acted as if he did, but he didn’t. He had his own lover, a man named Mike. Krista was okay with that. She had her own plaything too. But this thing she had with Ymir hurt and burnt, it ripped at her chest and filled her mind with misery and regret.

The sickest thing of all was that she would choose this over her perfect life any day. 


End file.
